


You and Me and All the Rest

by Pluppelina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Come play, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Prostitution, Sebastian Moran is a big baby who can't handle his feelings, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, to a certain extent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluppelina/pseuds/Pluppelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian chooses a prostitute for Jim to fuck... Then proceeds to have his own fun when the boss is done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and Me and All the Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

It’s Sebastian that chooses them. Always, as though the boss isn’t confident in his own tastes, or, more likely, as though he simply can’t be arsed to pick out his own prostitutes - because they are always prostitutes. It’s his one given condition, that; for the woman to be bought and paid for. Maybe he’s worried that they’ll take it the wrong way otherwise, that they’ll think because it’s Basher Moran who picks them up, it’ll be Basher Moran who fucks them that night. And, well - that’s not too far off from the truth, actually. It’s just that all that comes later. 

Right now, what there is for the woman is Jim, and what there is for Sebastian is waiting outside the bedroom door. It was demeaning the first time he had to do it, embarrassing the first handful and by now the emotions have faded until all that remains is the odd arousal, like he’s a peeping Tom of some sort who can only get his thrills by listening in, unbidden, on someone else’s. It doesn’t much matter that he’s got a magazine he tries his best to read while ignoring the noises coming through; it feels like he’s listening on purpose, for his own purposes. 

That couldn’t be further from the truth. Sebastian knows how to pick up women and he would if he wanted one. He’d up and leave the chair he’s in, too, if he could, but Jim won’t allow him to stray. As though it’s him that’s in danger from the whore, and not the other way around. It’s a novel experience, sitting and listening to some bird moan underneath another man. Underneath, by the by; who says the boss likes being on top? Maybe it’s them on top of him, all hips rotating and mouths hanging open and tits bouncing up and down as they work to get Jim Moriarty to orgasm. 

Sebastian pities those poor women for it. Jim isn’t exactly a man one would want to get in bed with; Jim with the reptilian manners and the cold, dead eyes and the impression that he carries something contagious underneath his skin, something that might pop right out of him and eat you alive. Every time Sebastian hears one of the women cry out from inside, he’s sure that’s what happened. Sure that Jim killed her, whether for his own kicks or by mistake, using nothing but that prickly manner of his. The same manner that gives Sebastian goose flesh if he thinks about it for too long. 

That’s never what happens to the women, though. It’s just some whore’s backward way of faking an orgasm, most of the time. Sometimes, or so Sebastian gathers from the bite marks and the bruises and the scratches, it’s Jim being a bit too rough. Another reason to pity the women; they get to walk around, more or less marked up Jim’s property. Perhaps that’s another reason it’s Sebastian who gets to pay them after Jim is done playing. Maybe it’d make the boss feel cheap to actually transfer the money when he’s already conquered; at least that’s the way it makes Sebastian feel. 

He’s just counting the money out when there’s sudden silence in the bedroom. Fucking finally, Sebastian thinks, able to relax at long last, if only for a moment. That’s the moment that used to be the best, when it was all over; it’s the moment that is now the worst, when he knows what’s next.

Jim looks pleased with himself as he opens the door, giving Sebastian a satisfied smile as he looks him over. His body is out of view - and thank fuck for that - but there’s not a hair out of place. That smile is all the sign Sebastian has that the woman wasn’t in there, faking it, all on her own. He tries his best to return the smile, but it isn’t very successful. 

“Pay her, clean her up and toss her out, Moran,” Jim says, and then he’s gone, back the way he came. It’s the same words as always, and as always, Sebastian stands. A moment later he steps in the door, and there she is; all black hair and smooth, dark skin. He can hear Jim washing up in the ensuite, door open but facing the wrong way. Carefully, almost as though he was stalking his prey, Sebastian walks a little closer to the bed. The woman on it makes a beckoning motion with a finger and smiles a smile that makes Sebastian want her despite everything. She spreads his legs for him as his knees touch the mattress and he hesitates, hands halfway to his belt. 

He could have her. He’s had Jim’s women before, after he was done with them, soothing their wounds with his soft tongue, fucking them slowly and properly, to make it worth their time. It’s sick, he knows, to want what Jim Moriarty has just had, and yet… In the end, he lets the money lie in his jeans pocket, and reaches down to undress instead. He keeps his eyes on her, almost spellbound; so much so that he doesn’t hear Jim enter the room again until the man’s standing beside the bed. Even then, it’s more the sight of his trouser leg that alerts Sebastian to his presence than the soft clearing of his throat. 

“You have fun with her, Sebastian,” Jim says, arrogant and casual as always. Sebastian still has his hands at his flies, halfway undone and mentally in the act already, even as he meets Jim’s eyes. There’s nothing in them, nothing like there’s always nothing, but he’s still got that fucking smile on, as though this whole situation is a delicate plan about to come into play. Sebastian would never have guessed that man was just minutes post-coital. “Make sure you take good care of her.”

Their eyes linger on one another’s for a moment before Sebastian nods and Jim slips away, considerately enough closing the door on his way out. It’s just Sebastian and the woman, then, the prostitute he picked because of how smooth the skin of her shoulder was and how alluring the curve of her hip is, even now, as she lies sweaty and debauched in the playroom bed. If Jim looked as though he was just out the shower, the woman looks as though she’d been had at least twice. Lazy fucker, Sebastian thinks, slowly crawling up the bed, probably let her do all the work. At least that’s not the Basher Moran way to do things.

Still, he hesitates as his face comes up level with her cunt, and he can properly see what there is to see. She’s a sticky mess, with her own come and with Jim’s come, with lubricant Sebastian’s surprised Jim was considerate enough to provide. Perhaps she asked for it. He looks up and is almost surprised to find that she’s looking down at him, a sort of hopeful look on her face as she reaches down to touch his hair, gently, with one hand. 

“Don’t chicken out now,” she says kindly, to his great surprise. “Take good care of me. I know you’re not afraid of a little mess, not a big, strong man like you.” 

And of course, Sebastian isn’t. Not generally, anyway. If it had been he who’d just fucked this woman, he wouldn’t have hesitated to go down on her. He’s no stranger to come, or to threesomes, but just then, he’s grateful for her grip on the back of his head. He can pretend that it’s her guiding him forward as he moves, can pretend that it’s for her that he tentatively sticks his tongue out to lick along her labia. 

It’s not long before he gets properly into it, and it’s not long before he realises he wishes that she wasn’t shaved. He wishes that he was sucking her come out of strands of hair instead of licking it up off the skin between her cunt and her ass, wishes that her hairs would’ve helped keep the gift Jim left him in between her legs where it was supposed to be, buried deep inside her for him to dig out with his tongue. It just seems a waste, so much of it soaking into the fabric of the sheets. Too big a waste to let it be.

After he’s done with her, after her once so gentle hands have almost pulled the hairs off his head, Sebastian turns his attention to the wet stain on the bed instead. He isn’t sure if he’s tasting Jim or her, long since having lost the ability to differentiate, but he wants it either way. He wants it all. He wants to leave his own little gift inside of her, too, even if Jim will never accept it. Even if it’ll just wash out in the shower later. 

His pants are around his thighs before he’s even made it all the way up on top of her. She’s still lying with her legs spread, still tired and high from her orgasm, but she’s used to this. It’s in her job description, after all, so Sebastian doesn’t take it personally when she wraps her arms around his back and her legs around his ass to help guide him inside her. Strange, he thinks, being with a whore without a condom, but then she’s warm and damp around him and he doesn’t think much any more, just fucks her, fucks her as though she’s the last woman he’ll ever get to fuck. It’s easy to lose himself inside of her; easier still to find someone else there, to find the only connection they’ll ever have deep inside another person. 

He lies down on top of her bonelessly once he’s come, mind racing around with nothing at all, a buzzing akin to a headache. He’s glad when it’s passed enough that he can pull himself together and pull up and away a little. He meets her dark eyes and lingers there for a moment before he blinks, almost feeling caught out. Only almost, though. There’s so much feeling in her eyes that it’s suddenly impossible to pretend. Instead, he rolls over once he’s free of her and, when he makes no move to reach out for her, she takes her cue to leave. 

Her long-fingered hands find their way into his pocket and he lets her take the money, the carefully folded bills he’d left there for her to find, but he’s glad when she doesn’t kiss him goodbye. Some of them do - some of them don’t understand that when it’s done, it’s done. This one’s not like that, though. A quick trip to the bathroom and then she’s gone, leaving him with a soft, “Take care, handsome,” before she walks out of his life entirely. Left on the mattress is just Sebastian, Sebastian and another wet stain.


End file.
